


Needs - The Morning After

by SpencerRemyLvr



Series: Needs [2]
Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Erotic choking, Judgmental friends, M/M, Talk of sex, badly written Cajun accent, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer has to deal with the 'morning after' and a best friend who is a little too observant and gets the wrong impression. Continuation of "Needs"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needs - The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Still don't really need to know anything about the X-men for this. If you don't know anything about them, don't worry, it doesn't make a difference in this story.

Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good, or this relaxed. He’d gone out with the intention of trying to catch this loose, relaxed, limp sort of feeling, that nice drifting place where his whole brain shut down and he didn’t have to think. Well, he’d sure as hell got it. Remy had used him in ways that Spencer hadn’t even expected and for which he was eternally grateful. He’d used him until there was nothing left in his body to give. Remy had wrung it out of him, bit by bit, orgasm after orgasm, until leaving him lying here this last time like some rag doll dropped on the bed.

At one point Spencer had demanded to know what Remy’s mutant abilities were, claiming that there was no way either of them could keep going without some kind of help. Remy, damn him, had just let out another of those husky chuckles before going back to darkening his mark on Spencer's left hip. But, powers or not, Spencer was finished now. His body was alternately aching and boneless. Even if he tried, he doubted he’d be able to do anything, let alone finish it. There were no fluids left in his body at all.

As if Remy had heard that thought somehow, he came strolling back over to the bed from wherever he’d been off to the side of the room, and he squatted down, holding out a cup of water with a straw in it. “Here, cher. Y’ need to drink somet’ing.”

Spencer lazily blinked open one eye. Water sounded good but he doubted he could move at the moment. Hell, he didn’t _want_ to move. To his pleasure, Remy had the cup tipped towards him just enough that all he really had to do was open his mouth and take the straw that was slipped past his lips. He closed his eyes and took a few delicious drinks of the cool liquid. Remy murmured approvingly and stroked a hand over his hair, brushing it back from his face. He didn’t rush Spencer along, just kept petting his hair and waiting patiently until Spencer finally released the straw. The cup was taken away, but the petting didn’t stop. Spencer hummed low in his throat, not even thinking about how much of a purr it came out sounding like.

After a moment, Remy’s hand ran down from his hair and smoothed down over his back. When it started to go lower, running over the swell of his backside, Spencer gave a low little grumble. “Don’t even think about it, Remy.” He murmured into the bedding, not even lifting his head. “I’ve got nothing left to give.”

Remy laughed softly. “Hush, cher. I’m just checkin’ y’ over. Can y’ draw dis leg up fo’ me?” His hand patted at the back of Spencer's right thigh.

Draw his leg up? Spencer thought about it for a moment, even tried to move it, and quickly gave it up. Nope. Not moving yet. “Uh-uh. And checking me over for what?”

“What do y’ t’ink? To make sure y’ aint hurt dat badly.” With gentle, careful hands, Remy cupped Spencer's thigh and behind his knee, drawing his leg up out of the way. Once he had Spencer's leg settled the way he wanted, he warned him “Dis may not feel dat great. Tell me if it really starts to hurt.” And then his fingers were there, running carefully over Spencer's entrance, even that light touch bringing a small ache to life. It’d be worse, he knew, but he was still riding the endorphin high of his last orgasm.

He was actually too caught up in his surprise at what Remy was doing for him to really feel anything more than that minor discomfort. Remy must’ve picked up on his surprise. “Aint no one ever cared fo’ y’ afterwards?” Remy asked him as he slipped his finger free.

Sighing, Spencer gave a small twitch that would’ve been a shoulder shrug at a different time. “I just take care of myself.”

“ _Couillon._ De aftercare is just as important as de rest.” Remy scolded him. His hands were smoothly running over Spencer's legs and then back up, over the rest of him. They ended up back by Spencer's face and he tenderly cupped Spencer's cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “I know y’ don’t wanna move much right now, cher, _mais_ I got a bath drawn fo’ y. Should be de right temperature by now. Let’s soak y’r body so y’ won’t be as sore later.”

Pouting only a little, Spencer rubbed his cheek against Remy’s hand. “I like being sore.”

“Y’ll like being able to sit down even better.” Remy quipped. “Y’ got some spots dat need a good soak.”

Spencer let out a sigh and resigned himself to having to move. Apparently Remy wasn’t going to give this up. With Remy’s help he managed to get into a half sitting position, most his weight on one hip. Then Remy surprised him completely by shifting his weight and getting one arm behind Spencer's knees and the other behind his back before actually lifting Spencer right up off the bed. A small thrill ran through Spencer at the display of obvious strength. He was small but he knew he wasn’t that small for someone to have an easy time picking him up this way. Remy had already showed he was quite a bit stronger than he looked. This just really cemented it. Still, Spencer knew he should at least put in a token protest. “I can walk.” He mumbled, at the same time dropping his head down on Remy’s shoulder.

The Cajun let out another of those chuckles that Spencer so enjoyed. Then he pressed a kiss against Spencer's hair. “I know y’ can walk, petit. I like taking care of y’, though. Y’ been so good fo’ me, dis is my way of showing y’ how happy y’ made me.”

Oh, well, when he put it like that. Spencer smiled and snuggled in to the embrace. He didn’t stop to question how a simple compliment like that warmed him deep down inside. In this wonderful, peaceful place he was in, it seemed like no big deal at all to let Remy carry him into the bathroom, or to let the man set him down in the tub. It only got better when Remy climbed into the large tub with him and then drew him close so that his back was pressed against Remy’s front. When Remy lathered up a washcloth and actually started to wash him, Spencer made a low little happy sound and let his body just melt back into Remy’s embrace. It was nice to just lay there and let someone care for him. Normally, Spencer was so self-sufficient. Being taken care of was a novelty to him. When had he ever let anyone do it? He’d always been the one to take care of other people. But this…this was nice. Definitely something he could get used to.

His right arm was lifted and the washcloth ran over his hand, between his fingers, and then up and over his wrist. Spencer watched, his lips curving a little when he saw the bruising already building on his wrist. A look showed there was a matching one on his other wrist. There were others, too. Spencer let his gaze travel over his body to find them all. There were love bites, little bruises decorating his skin all over. His collarbone, chest, one by his bellybutton, his hips, one or two on the inside of his thighs, even one on his ankle. Then there were other bruises, like the ones where Remy’s hands had gripped his hips. Spencer could only imagine what his neck looked like.

Remy’s thoughts must’ve been running along the same path. He was running the washcloth over Spencer's shoulder now and up across his neck in gentle, sweeping motions. “Y’r already bruising here pretty good. It’s gonna be in’eresting fo’ y’ to hide dat.”

“Mm.” Spencer couldn’t help how pleased he sounded at that.

Chuckling, Remy kissed his temple. He moved the washcloth down Spencer's other arm. “Y’ go out hunting fo’ dis very often?” He asked as he ran the cloth between Spencer's fingers.

It didn’t seem so bad to sit and talk about this here while Remy was caring for him this way. Spencer didn’t usually talk about this part of his life. He got what he needed from men and then he moved on. He didn’t stick around and let himself be pampered this way—no one had ever even offered it to him before, really—and he didn’t _talk_ about this. Not after a few horrible conversations that were burned into his memory. But Remy didn’t seem like the type to be judgmental or hypocritical. It was amazing how many people would indulge in rough play with a person and then, once all was said and done, deny they’d ever done it. Spencer had been made to feel ashamed of his needs countless times, but he never denied that they were there, and he never pretended that he hadn’t done anything. He always owned up to what he did. “Not a lot.” He finally answered Remy. “Just sometimes, when it gets too much, or when I need to, to forget.”

“Fo’get?”

Remy’s hands drifted up to Spencer's shoulders and he pushed him forward. Spencer went with it, drawing his knees up as he did. He folded his arms over his knees and rested his head there while Remy started to run the washcloth over his back. The whole atmosphere was warm and relaxed. “Mm hmm.” Sighing happily, Spencer let his eyes drift shut, barely thinking as he let himself answer Remy’s question. “I have an eidetic memory, so I typically don’t get to forget anything. That’s great for while I’m working a case, but not so great once I’m home and can’t get the crime scenes out of my head.”

The washcloth paused in the small of Spencer's back. “Crime scenes? Y’r a _cop_?”

“Fed.” Spencer said absently. “BAU.”

“Well, hell.” There was a small beat of silence, just enough to have Spencer starting to stir a little, his brain finally registering that there might be something wrong here, and then the cloth started to move again and Remy gave an amused laugh. “De mutant and de Fed. Who would’ve guessed?” He laughed again and Spencer could actually hear as he shook his head. “I can see why a memory like y’rs might be a blessing and a curse. I can’t imagine de t’ings y’ get popping up on y’ all de time. So, is dat de only reason y’ do dis, to just fo’get dat stuff fo’ a while?”

The easygoing sound to Remy’s voice lulled Spencer back from his moment of worry and had him relaxing once more. “No. It’s a big part, yes, but not all.” Spencer trailed off, not quite sure how to verbalize his thoughts.

Remy slid a hand up and squeezed Spencer's shoulder. “ _Désolé_ , petit. Didn’t mean to put y’ on de spot. Y’ aint gotta answer dat.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Spencer insisted. And it was, really. It was surprisingly fine. “My brain just isn’t back up to normal quite yet so I’m having a moment trying to figure out how to put this into words.” He paused as Remy let out a pleased little laugh and then continued on. “Forgetting is one of the things I enjoy from this, but it’s not even really the main reasons. I just, I feel like I’ve had to be an adult my whole life. I’ve been the responsible one since around ten years old. I graduated high school by the age of twelve and started at college a year later.”

“Twelve? Really?”

“Mm hm. It sounds great, but it’s not as wonderful as people think. Do you realize how much people expect of you when you’re smart? You’re not allowed the same mistakes as everyone else. You’re expected to pretty much always have the right answers, to know what to do and how to act. You don’t get to make mistakes because you’re smarter than that. But for this, for moments like these, my brains don’t matter. I don’t have to be smart or have the right answer. I don’t have to decide anything, really.”

“Y’ get to hand over de control and be free fo’ a while. No t’inking, no decisions.” Remy said as he brought his hands up to Spencer's shoulders. The washcloth had been abandoned a bit ago and Remy was just running his hands over Spencer's back now, lightly rubbing at his muscles in a way that had him arching back into the touch.

Spencer nodded. “Exactly. I need to give up that control sometimes or I feel like I’m going to go crazy.” He couldn’t help sounding just slightly defensive there. In the few times he’d tried to explain things, this was one point where people usually started to get a bit judgmental, or they started to talk about ways to ‘fix’ him.

Remy did none of that. In fact, he slid his hands forward, over Spencer's shoulders, and pressed them against his chest until Spencer leaned back against him once more. When he was settled back between Remy’s thighs again, back to chest, Remy banded one arm across his belly and the other over his shoulder in a hold that left Spencer feeling both comforted and secure. “I aint gonna judge y’, cher.” Remy pressed a kiss against his hair. “How can I? I’m right here wit’ y’, aint I? I aint ashamed to say I liked what we did. I liked taking dat power from y’. As much as y’ need to give it up, to let someone else be in charge, I need to be de one dat someone gives dat to. I need to be in charge. Sometimes, it’s de only place in m’ life I really feel like I got any control.”

They were a fine pair, the two of them. Fucked up in their own ways. Yet it worked, didn’t it? They found what they needed here together. Spencer turned his face and nuzzled against Remy’s arm. Things had never been this perfect before. He was loathe to give it up. The little relief he gained from his other encounters paled in comparison to what he felt right in this moment.

The sound of a cell phone ringing broke through their moment. Spencer recognized the ringtone and couldn’t help letting out a gusty sigh. Yet he started to move instantly. It was hard to make himself climb out of the comfort of Remy’s hold. The Cajun let him up, though, and Spencer made it out of the bathroom and to his phone in just enough time. “Reid.” He answered.

“ _Hey, Reid. Sorry to wake you._ ” JJ apologized, her voice sounding tired. “ _We’ve got a case. Everyone’s meeting at the Bureau in an hour._ ”

Spencer snuck a glance at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see that it was four am. Well, damn, they’d kept each other busy for _hours_. He ran a hand through his hair and tried not to sigh again. So much for a pleasant rest of the night. “I’ll be there. Thanks, Jayje.”

He finally did let out his sigh as he closed his phone and dropped it back down onto his pants. He turned around in just enough time to be able to appreciate the view as Remy strolled naked out of the bathroom. The man moved with confidence, totally at ease in his own skin. Like someone who knew they looked good. His grin was wicked when he caught Spencer looking at him. He put a little extra sway to his way as he came over and brought Spencer a towel. “Bad news, petit?”

“I have to go to work.” Never had Spencer so regretfully said those words. It didn’t help that Remy didn’t hand the towel over, but instead just started to dry him off. He watched as Remy knelt down in front of him to dry his legs and even his feet and he marveled at how the man could be in a kneeling position and still manage to look anything but submissive.

Those demon eyes lifted up to Spencer and the humor in them said that he knew what Spencer was thinking and enjoyed it. With the same steady movements, he moved the towel up Spencer's thighs, tapping on the inside of one in a gesture that took Spencer a second to understand. A hint of blush hit his cheeks when he realized what Remy wanted. Still, he spread his thighs so that Remy could continue drying him. A low little whimper touched his throat when Remy ran the towel between his legs and then around his already hardening cock. Remy licked his lips, looking both devilish and pouty and those gorgeous eyes of his locked on to Spencer's. “Y’ sure y’ gotta go?”

“Oh God.” Spencer didn’t even realize at first that the words had slipped past his lips. The heat was building low down in his stomach again. His hands curled into fists at his sides as Remy tightened his grip a little and used the towel to fist Spencer, bringing him from partially hard to fully hard in just a few strokes. “ _Remy_.”

“Mm. I like how y’ say dat.” Remy purred. He let go of Spencer, chuckling at the whine it got him, and he pushed up to his feet. He stepped in close and caught one hand at the small of Spencer's back so he could jerk their bodies together. Spencer gave a shuddering gasp as his erection was pressed between their stomachs. He brought his hands up and braced them on Remy’s shoulders. When Remy’s other hand fisted in the back of his hair, pulling his head back, Spencer's whimper was a little louder. The look in Remy’s eyes held him in place just as much as the man’s hands did. “Look at y’, petit, already so flushed and wanting, and after y’ thought dere was no way y’d even be able to get it up. Y’r such a wanton little t’ing, just begging fo’ it, aint y’?”

“Yes, yes, _yes_.”

“Y’ beg so damn pretty. If we had de time, I’d get some rope, tie y’ spread eagle to de bed, and I’d take m’ time going over every inch of y’ and see how many ways I could make y’ beg. Would y’ like dat? Stuck lying dere, unable to do anyt’ing, unable to stop me or take what y’ want. Just held dere at m’ whim. At m’ will.”

The jolt of lust Spencer felt at just the thought of that had him gasping and writhing in Remy’s hold. “God, Remy. You’re killing me here and I’ve got to go to work.”

The evil chuckle Remy let out shouldn’t have sounded so damn appealing. “ _Je sais_. Aint exactly fair, is it? Maybe I want to drive y’ crazy, though. Maybe I want y’ t’inking about me. Cause I got de impression y’ don’t usually go back to de same person, and I want y’ to want to come back to me.” His hand tightened in Spencer's hair, right on that pain/pleasure edge, and his other hand held Spencer in place as he ground against him.

“Manipulative little shit.” Spencer gasped out. Still, he arched into the touch, tipping his head back into Remy’s hand even more and bearing his throat.

Remy took the invitation and dove right in, mouth going to the mark he’d made earlier at the junction of Spencer's neck and shoulder. He bit down on it just enough to make it ache. “Y’r point?”

“Shit.” His usual vocabulary went out the window. Spencer wasn’t the type to swear, except when furious or during really good sex.

Abruptly Remy let go of him. He laughed again as Spencer stumbled back a step to lean against the wall. Spencer watched as the man walked—no, he didn’t walk, the bastard, he _swaggered_ —over to the nightstand by the bed. He pulled something out of the drawer, though Spencer didn’t see what. He was too busy trying to calm his breathing while at the same time enjoying the view of Remy bent over. The view didn’t last long. Remy straightened up, much to Spencer's disappointment, and then he made his way back over. When he got close he held out a slip of paper. “Y’ ever need dat itch scratched, y’ call. I can be in town within a couple hours. I just live over in New York.”

Spencer was surprised to find that he was seriously considering this. It would actually work out perfectly. It was usually after a case that he felt this way. He could call on his way home and that would give them both plenty of time to get to a designated place. The idea was definitely appealing. None of the random encounters that Spencer had indulged in had ever been as good as this one. He’d never met someone who seemed so capable of reading him and knowing what he wanted, even when he himself didn’t quite know, and who seemed to enjoy it all just as much as him. Finding someone with kinks was easy; everyone had them. Finding someone whose kinks matched so well with your own, that wasn’t anywhere near as easy. He’d be an idiot to pass it up.

A smile touched Spencer's lips and he reached out and took the paper. “Thank you.”

“Oh believe me, petit. It’s been m’ pleasure.”

CXCX

Spencer made it to the Bureau just under the hour deadline. Even so, he was the second-to-last one to arrive, and he hurried quickly towards the conference room where the others were. It had taken a little too long for him to swing by his apartment and grab his go bag out of the living room. The cab had been waiting outside, though, and he was already running late, so there was no time for him to change into his work clothes without making himself really late. Unfortunately, that meant that he not only had to walk into the conference room wearing the jeans, shirt and jacket that he’d worn out to the club—a style his team had never seen him in before and one that would probably earn him some teasing—he was also without his usual ability to cover up everything. His jacket was just long enough to cover his wrists so long as he was careful, but he hadn’t had anything to hide the bruising on his neck.

Thank God for Remy. The man had pulled a long, thin maroon scarf out of his suitcase and had wrapped it around his neck for him until it covered the marks _and_ looked like he’d worn it as part of the outfit. Spencer had tried to insist he couldn’t take his scarf and that he’d just grab one at his apartment but Remy had just laughed and winked and said he’d get it back next time. Then the cab had arrived and Spencer had to go.

As he hurried into the conference room now, he couldn’t help but wish he was still back at the hotel with Remy. Anywhere, really, where he wouldn’t have an entire room of people—friends—staring at him. It was embarrassing the way that all eyes went to him. Kind of insulting, too, really, as they gaped at him. It didn’t help matters at all when Penelope gave a low whistle and called out “Well look at you, Reid! Who knew jeans could look so good?”

“Looks like someone got pulled away from a date.” David teased him.

Spencer felt his cheeks heat and tried to avoid looking at them all as he dropped down into his chair. His blush only made them laugh even more. “A date?” Emily asked, her tone laughing. “At five in the morning?”

“Four. I called an hour ago, remember?” JJ added in. She laughed at the glare that Spencer leveled her way.

Derek reached over and clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder. “Way to go, pretty boy. Who’s the lucky girl? She someone we know?”

Thank God for little favors. The friendly interrogation was cut off by Aaron’s appearance in the room. All teasing stopped then and the group turned their attention to the case being laid out for them. Spencer tried to make himself focus only on the case and not on anything else. Not on the slight ache in his wrists or hips. Definitely not on the sore feeling that flared up every time he shifted around in his seat. He also fought to keep his hands in his lap and avoid his usual expressive gestures. Lifting his hands up in this jacket would only serve to show off things he didn’t want to have to explain. He thought he did a pretty good job at keeping it all hidden, too. But he was so caught up in trying to be careful that he missed one set of eyes that never seemed to quite leave him.

But when the briefing was done and they were all told to head to the jet, Spencer found himself waylaid before he could leave the room. Derek took hold of his arm as he rose. “Stay a second, Reid.”

Spencer turned curiously towards his friends. He gestured over his shoulder towards the door with one hand. “Is it important? I need to go change into work clothes before we head to the jet.”

“It’s important.” Derek let go of him, but he didn’t step back, instead staying right at Spencer's side. He looked around the room and Spencer realized that the man was making sure there was no one left in here with them. Uh-oh. Whatever this was, it must be important. Spencer straightened up a little and turned his full attention to Derek now, the need to go change completely forgotten in the face of his worry for his best friend. Had something happened to him? Was there something wrong? “Are you okay, Morgan?”

Derek brought his eyes back to Spencer now that he was sure that the room was empty. When he spoke, his voice was low and full of worry. “That’s what I wanted to ask you. Are you all right, Reid?”

“Yes, of course.” Spencer replied automatically. Why wouldn’t he be? He tried to think of what he might’ve done that would worry the man and the only thing he could think of were his blushes while they’d been teasing him. But Derek knew him well enough to know that he blushed easily. So what was it that had him worried? “Why do you ask?”

“I saw your wrists, kid.”

Just five words and everything inside of Spencer went utterly still. The first thing to race through him was panic. All this time, all these years at the Bureau, and he’d never ended up with a mark that he couldn’t explain away or hide. This was the first time he’d really been caught out and hadn’t had a story already prepared to help him cover it up. All he could come up with right now was “It’s not what you think.” And even as he said them, he knew how weak those words sounded.

Derek reached out, catching Spencer's arm in his and lifting it up just enough that the sleeve drew back and his wrist was exposed. He held it up between them and asked “What explanation do you have, then?”

Jerking his hand free, Spencer took a step back, needing that little bit of space between them. The slightly peaceful feeling he’d still been carrying with him from his time with Remy was rapidly fading away under the landslide of emotions Derek was stirring up here. One of the stronger emotions that came through was defensiveness that wasn’t typical for him. “It’s nothing, Morgan. I’m fine. Just leave it alone, okay?”

His defensiveness seemed to only worry Derek even more. Spencer knew it, could see it, and yet he couldn’t’ stop it. He wrapped his arms around his waist and drew back a little bit more. Derek was looking at him with even more worry now. Spencer knew that he was going to have to come up with something to say or some way to get himself out of this before Derek took it too far. But fate had something else in mind. Derek’s whole body suddenly went taunt. His eyes narrowed briefly before going wide in surprise. Spencer watched him, unsure what the hell was going on. He didn’t have to wonder for long. Derek reached out and hooked a finger on Spencer's scarf, tugging it down just enough that his neck was exposed. “Fine, huh?”

This time Spencer took an even bigger step backwards so that now there was a good couple feet between them. His heart felt like it was racing in his chest. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! What was he going to do now? Derek had seen the bruises on his wrists and now his neck too. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking now, either. There was worry and pity in his eyes and a fierceness that Spencer always associated with the man’s protective side. This was getting out of control, fast. “Morgan—Derek—it’s not what it looks like. Really, it’s not.”

“It’s okay, kid.” Derek held his hands out on either side of him in a placating sort of way. “Everything’s all right.”

Oh, Goddammit. It was written right there in Derek’s eyes. He believed Spencer had been assaulted. _And why shouldn’t he? He’s seen the bruises on my wrist and the ones on my neck. What other conclusion would he draw?_ This whole crappy situation left Spencer with only two options. One, he could walk away and leave Derek thinking that he’d been assaulted. Or, two, he could do the one thing he absolutely didn’t want to do and he could tell the man just how consensual it had been. Neither option was appealing. Still, he had no real choice. There was only one way to do this. “I wasn’t assaulted.” He blurted the words out, hoping they would be easier to say if he just said them quickly and got it over with. “It was consensual. I asked for it.”

The worry in Derek’s eyes didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger. “Spencer,” The use of his first name showed just exactly how worried Derek really was. “No matter what you did, it wasn’t your fault. You know that. You’ve worked this job long enough to know that no one in these situations was ‘asking for it’.”

Well, hell, he wasn’t making this easy, was he? Spencer blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling so that he wouldn’t have to meet Derek’s eyes. There was no way he could look right at him as he said this. He was already blushing so bad it felt like his face was on fire. “No, Morgan, you’re not understanding. I literally asked for it. I went out to a club _looking_ for it.”

“Oh.”

Just one word, yet with so many emotions in it. In it, Spencer heard countless things he’d never wanted to hear from his best friend, and he ached for the part of their friendship that was about to change. Something like this always changes things even when people tried to claim it won’t. Some would just walk away. Some, like he had a feeling Derek would, asked questions in an effort to understand. Yet even the ones who asked, they never understood, not really. How could they? If it wasn’t something a person needed, how could they hope to understand what it was that drove someone else to need it? They’d never understand how the sight of those marks gave Spencer a small thrill. How he’d reach out and touch them, run his fingers over them, or even press in to bring that ache to life. They wouldn’t understand how he liked even the feeling of pain when he’d shift in his seat.

It wasn’t just that he enjoyed the pain, though he did in this context. It’s the memories that the pain invokes. It reminds him for just that moment that he’d been owned, controlled. And, this time around, it reminds him of the care he received afterwards from Remy. A care he hadn’t even known he’d craved.

Spencer had been lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out a way to explain all this, that when Derek spoke again, it actually startled Spencer a little. “Why would you want someone to hurt you?”

That was always a question people asked. Spencer curled his hands into fists and shoved them down into his pockets. Why had this been so much easier to talk about with Remy earlier, yet it left him feeling tongue-tied now? _Because Remy understands. He likes the same thing, just on the opposite end_ his mind supplied. But being a profiler should give Derek a little more understanding than most, right? “You know about paraphilia and how it works. Everyone has their own kink, even if they don’t always realize it. This…this is just mine.”

“Pain?”

The word was sharp and it made Spencer flinch. He dropped his eyes, looking to the floor this time, still trying to avoid looking at Derek at all costs. _I don’t want to be doing this. I don’t want to be having this talk right now._ “One of them, yes.”

Derek’s voice tightened a little. “So you just went out and picked up someone at a club and just let them hurt you? Reid…did you stop to think about how dangerous that is? Whoever this person is, they could’ve hurt you. They could’ve _killed_ you. From the looks of it, they had their hands on your _neck_.”

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” Spencer said. And with that, he gave away his second secret, another one that no one had known. All by a slip of the pronoun.

To his surprise, Derek didn’t even focus on that. He glossed over that like it was no big deal. “Choking games are dangerous, Reid. I can’t believe you’d let some stranger do that to you. I can’t believe you’d let anyone do that to you. How could you let someone hurt you that way? Seeing the shit we see every day, seeing how it can all go wrong, all the perverts out there who get off on bringing people pain, how could you just go out and hunt for something like that?”

The words felt as sharp as knives and Spencer swore he was bleeding inside. It never got any easier to hear this speech from people. He’d heard it before, in so many different forms. He’d been called so many names over the years. Freak. Pervert. Sick. Twisted. Wrong. Hearing it from the man who was supposed to be his best friend, it just made it hurt all the more, and it brought his defensiveness back out tenfold. With it came the shame. Damn him! What right did he have to stand there and make Spencer feel ashamed? Yet that’s what he was doing.

Hurt and just a little bit angry, Spencer straightened himself up and he lifted his eyes for the first time and let them lock on Derek. He let his anger seep out into his words, giving him a courage he might not have otherwise had. “My sex life is my own business.” He snapped, glaring at him. “I don’t have to sit here and justify it to you, Morgan. The only people who need worry about my sexual activities, aside from myself, are the people I choose to sleep with, and I don’t recall making that offer to you. Now, we’ve got a job to do. Let’s go before we’re late.” And with that pronouncement, Spencer spun on his heel and marched off, temper carrying him away from his gaping friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Is there anyone interested in reading more in this? I could make a series of shorts out of this, I think. Maybe even a multi-chapter at one point


End file.
